


Part One: Ian

by SkewedReality



Series: Fic-A-Day in May Fics 2014 [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, ficadayinmay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:31:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1569395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkewedReality/pseuds/SkewedReality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short character study of Ian leading up to the events of 1x07.</p>
<p>Day Two of Fic-A-Day in May</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part One: Ian

Ian realized he was "different" when he was about eight years old, listening to NSYNC blasting through the folding door of Fiona's room--then covered wall-to-wall with evidence of her unwavering boyband loyalty. Lip would be outside building model rockets to fire at the neighbor's houses, but Ian would stay inside with Fiona.

He'd lie on her bed and stare up at her posters while the shitty music played and think about how one day, maybe he'd be able to kiss boys the way Fiona talked about with her friends. Because it sounded really cool. 

When it really happened during his freshman year, it was just as awesome as he'd imagined it to be. Even if Roger Spikey used too much tongue and made this weird noise through his nose when Ian fucked him, Ian felt like he was on the right track somehow. 

Of course it had to be a secret, but then again, being part of Frank Gallagher's family on the South Side of Chicago, what didn't? He wasn't ashamed about it. His being gay was just a thing that was and always had been. And, hell, if he could accept being born with orange fucking hair and freckles, accepting that he liked guys was a walk in the park on a Sunday afternoon. 

In hindsight, he'd probably be willing to admit that having an affair with his married boss wasn't his best decision. Might even be willing to admit that he was mostly in it for the attention and praise he'd received that he was so lacking being the middle child in a poor family. 

All the usual bullshit Freudian reasons that didn't even matter then. 

But, as sure and confident as he'd felt he'd always been, he was in no way prepared for the way it felt to be completely blindsided by blue eyes and a dirty face staring down at him as he was pinned between Mickey's legs. The way the adrenaline soaked anger in those eyes shifted to a flash of need that was immediately covered by panic.

The way they tore at each others' clothes was all urgency, as though they both knew something already that they wouldn't actually figure out for years. 

He'd never cared enough to ask why he was made the way he was, but as he walked out of Mickey's room with a gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans and a bruise on his eye, he understood. 

It was so he could feel exactly like this. Ravished and dumbfounded and completely lost. And euphorically happy.


End file.
